


Baby Steps

by SilverLynxx



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Physical Disability, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-28
Updated: 2012-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-06 04:50:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverLynxx/pseuds/SilverLynxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a crushing plummet to Earth, Loki is found and taken in by S.H.I.E.L.D; only he’s of little use to them crippled and mute. Throughout the arduous physiotherapy and healing process, Loki becomes a friend rather than simply a tool, and he begins to relinquish his demons, one step at a time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The plummet

**Author's Note:**

> A very slow response [to this fill](http://norsekink.livejournal.com/7418.html?thread=13993722#t13993722) on Norsekink.

Dark. All he can see is the dark; the all-consuming blackness that engulfs him whole. Then he’s suffocating as the very air is sucked painfully from his lungs and he panics. His hands claw at his throat and draw blood as he tries to cry out, fearing that this is how he’ll die; lost and alone in the belly of the abyss.

Then suddenly there is _light_ , a flash so blinding and bright that it _burns_.

And then he’s plummeting. His stomach lurches and he gulps down a lungful of frigid air only to expel it all in one deafening scream as he hits the ground in a bloody heap, agony searing through his body like a Muspelheim fire. He doesn’t know how long the air rings with his screams, but he is eventually forced into silence when his throat begins to bleed and his shrieks taper off into choked gargles.

Eventually everything falls still and quiet when the shrill echoes die out. The stillness is smothering and finally he manages to pry his eyes open. It’s dark, the starry night sky is blurred and unfocused and all he can hear is his own harsh, wet breaths as his head lolls weakly. His body aches, rocks and crystal shards digging mercilessly into his battle-softened skin.

Then the deathly silence is broken. He can feel the ground tremble beneath his head and pebbles begin to skitter across the ground as the quiet growl of whatever is approaching travels through the hard rock. Then there are eyes; glowing so bright they burn and blind him as the approaching creatures clatter and grind noisily, roaring as they kick up the dirt; circling, snarling and squealing ravenously.

An icy fist grips Loki’s heart and panic pricks his brain like needles, goading him to move. Yet he cannot coax movement from his limbs; they are heavy, leaden and useless as if he were pinned under Mjolnir and left to be picked apart by the carrion birds.

A shrill ringing picks up in his mind when he hears a low, deafening sound which rattles through his body; a storm? Thunder? No. It is the sound of voices, loud and sundry in number, surrounding him and yelling words he cannot make sense of. Metal bangs, grates and clatters. He can feel the many people around him, surrounding him, eyeing him as their beasts grumble, and they start to draw closer.

He is weak, unable to move as they swarm around him like vultures and then the fear spikes; physical, painful and potent in his chest like a splinter of ice and his skin vibrates with the magick he cannot harness, that he does not have the strength to call to his fingers, the fingers he cannot even twitch.

Then a hand grabs his arm like a vice and Loki releases an inhuman shriek as his heart stutters and a blast of green erupts so violently that it throws the surrounding men back. Loki can hear nothing, his eyes stare wide and blind, staring up at the sky as his magick howls in his ears, muffling the now alarmed and frantic barking of orders which blend into one indistinguishable noise.

He can feel the adrenaline rush through his veins and he twitches as the magic swirls around him in a whirlwind that tints everything green. Weapons click, ready to fire, and in response their metal beasts explode, gouts of flames reaching so high that they seem to scorch the very sky. There are cries like wounded animals as the hunters seek cover, some being propelled into the air and scorched from the chaos erupting around them.

They try to crawl closer, bodies bowed against the force of his magic which hisses and winds itself around him in a defensive storm. Cries are lost in the howl as they’re swept away after losing their footing, flames are caught up in the wind and create a searing, magnificent dance of light and shadow that his eyes follow in a delirious haze.

Then a firm hand grips his arm and Loki’s head jerks around, wide with fear and madness as his magic lunges to skin the man alive.

But he stops, and his magick strikes the ground. The wind is still howling and his head is spinning and whining and yet the man is mouthing something, his voice broken and distorted in the noise and delirium.

“ _Ca – down – ok- relax – help – **please**_ ”

The magick dies in an instant and Loki is frozen. He can vaguely hear the voices call for flames to be extinguished, for medics to be called. But it all fades away as Loki’s eyes roll back and he collapses against the man.

Everything blurs, everything goes black. But Loki remembers. He remembers the bright, determined blue eyes that remind Loki of much happier, simpler times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Prologue is shorter than the following chapters and this one was written differently to try and capture Loki's panic and disorientation. The following chapters will be clearer and most likely in past tense instead of present ^^


	2. Articulation

Loki jerked awake with a gasp, flinching back when he was met by the glare of sterile white walls. He sucked in a painful breath and braced his hands either side of him. His fingers dug into the less than soft mattress and the heavily starched sheets crinkled like paper as he moved.

A deep ache settled behind his eyes and he felt a small stab of distress as memories began to filter back, disorientated and accompanied by an unpleasant twinge in his chest. He made to cradle his spinning head, but lurched in surprise when his hands were wrenched painfully back to the bed with a hiss reminiscent of a blade against whetstone. Only then did Loki register the metal cuffs biting into his wrists, fastened loosely to the bars either side of the bed by a second ring which hissed as it slid back and forth.

He was quick to regain lucidity at the prospect of being a prisoner; yet still there was a haze of pain which crept across his limbs like a layer of frost, and his magick, when he called upon it, seemed to slip through his fingers as fluid and tangible as water. It was there, but it would not do as he willed. That worried Loki more than having his magick silenced completely.

A movement in the corner of his eye had Loki jerking around, regardless of the worrying black spots that peppered his vision. He narrowed his eyes upon seeing a man, a warrior easily defined in any realm, sat in a small wooden chair staring straight back at him. He was big, and whilst Loki felt he may be taller still, the stranger was most definitely broader; his arms curved with muscle, a strong, square jaw and even a crop of neatly combed blond hair. He was of Midgard stock; of that much Loki was certain.

It was in bad taste that Fate had him here; staring at a mortal that so personified the life he had violently torn himself away from.

The stranger let go of the book he had been depositing on the bedside table, the action which had alerted Loki to his presence in the first place, and slowly extended a hand. Loki stiffened, his eyes narrowing to dangerous slits and the man ceased all movement, like a hare startled by a lurking shadow in its’ peripheral.

His muscles throbbed from being bruised and strung so tight, and his tongue felt leaden in his mouth. So while the acidic burn of demands and bitter words soured behind tightly-pressed lips, Loki realised that he was far more fitting for the role of prey with nothing in his favour; no mobility, no magick, no words, not until he felt he could use them coherently.

Suddenly the man was standing up and reaching towards him, wrenching Loki violently from his tumultuous thoughts. Then there was this noise; a wailing, shrieking sound that pierced his ears and clawed around his skull; a wordless racket like that a terrified child would make. The man froze and Loki’s breath caught and the noise abruptly stopped. In the stunned and deafening silence that followed, with a dawning horror Loki realised that the despicable sound had come from _him_.

Wide green eyes locked onto equally confused blue which immediately softened with sympathy and reassurance, but Loki was not in the right mind to be soothed. His chest rose and fell heavily in time with each erratic drag of breath and his eyes flicked left and right with a mad panic. Suddenly he was struggling, pulling frantically at his bindings and trying to wield his magic which only managed to spark and stutter at his fingers tips. The book fell from the table and landed with a thud drowned easily out by the clanking of metal and Loki’s snarling as he tried to form the spiteful words he wished to spear this stranger with. But all that filled the room was that hateful squalling sound of thoughts and curses half-formed by a tongue no more articulate than a babe’s.

“Hey, hey!” Strong hands quickly encased his wrists, holding them still in a firm, calloused grip. Loki froze and his lips turned down in mortification when he realised his vision was blurring, a warm tear streaking down his cheek from the built up anger and frustration and a deeply smothered _fear_.

The hands holding him loosened, and Loki took the moment of distraction to wrench himself away, though it was more a feeble act of rebellion that anything else. The metal cuffs held strong and clinked with a cold finality that doused any remaining fight that resided inside Loki.

An uneasy silence fell over the room like a thick blanket, and there was a tension that kept them rooted in place; Loki sitting with his eyes fixed on the rumpled bed sheet and the soldier standing by his bed with his hands hovering in the air as if unsure what to do with them.

“Here, let me…” Loki watched warily as the man’s hands crept tentatively closer, reaching for the metal rings around his wrists. He made a small sound of surprise when they suddenly fell away and the man tucked a small key back into his breast pocket.

Loki rubbed his wrists where the restraints had left a line of irritated pink, eyes lifting to focus on the stranger who was standing, apparently instinctively, in a soldierly stance, reminiscent of the palace guards. However the man’s expression was of, surprisingly, concern, rather than grim concentration.

“I’m sorry if I startled you, the doctors said you might react badly to having someone present when you woke up…but I figured…I’ve never liked waking up alone in a strange place, not that it happens often, of course, but when it does it’s…” he seemed to realise he was rambling before he blushed and stuck out a hand. “I’m Steve Rogers.”

Loki eyed the hand as if he was being offered the fangs of an enraged snake. After a moment the proffered hand dropped back to the man’s side and he bowed his head, seemingly flustered by Loki’s rejection; that in itself prompted a small stab penitence. Loki sat up straighter; attracting the stranger’s…Steve’s, attention.

“ _My name is Loki._ ” Is what he’d intended to say, yet all the came forth was that sound; the hoarse, broken noise where his tongue attempted the practiced motions of consonants and vowels and yet out tumbled fractured, garbled deformities of no language.

His voice cut off and he snapped his jaw shut, his hand twitching on the sheets as he resisted the urge to cover his mouth in his mortification. He knew he must have looked a sight, his eyes wide with confusion and speaking no more coherently than a toddler; he hated how his carefully constructed façade had crumbled so completely, and in front of this man with whom he had no chance at another, more intimidating and eloquent, first impression. He would think him a fool.

“Hey,”

Loki’s eyes lifted to find the man smiling at him. It was not a condescending smile, nor even pitying, just genuinely kind. Loki found himself silently stunned by that.

“I know this must be incredibly disorientating for you.” He sat down again, edging closer to the bed now that Loki seemed less inclined to claw out his eyes. “SHIELD, this big organisation, found you in the desert. You were pretty banged up, though you still managed to inflict quite an impressive bit of destruction.”

Loki watched Steve with an acute stare, slender fingers resting loosely around his opposite wrist. He didn’t try to suppress the prideful smirk that took place on his lips as he learned of the chaos he had created in his delirious state.

“Tests are being run to try and determine the damage, although nothing had been verified yet.”

Loki snorted derisively, “But, hopefully we’ll know soon enough, so they can start your treatment…”

They sat staring at each other in silence until the soldier flushed and gathered his book from the floor and stood, clearing his throat. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re awake,” he said with another small smile, though it slipped slightly as he reached over to finger the forgotten cuffs lying on the bed.

“Would you…would you mind if I could put these back on? It’s a security thing, I shouldn’t really have taken them off in the first place,” he said with a sheepish, hopeful smile. Loki glared at them distastefully, but this man had extended a gesture of good faith, so he supposed it was fair to offer one in return. Besides, he was in no state to escape, chained or not.

Licking his lips with a clumsy tongue, Loki stiffly extended his arms, allowing the metal to be clicked around his wrists.

“Thank you,” the man smiled, his face near lighting up with it. “I’ll inform the doctors you’re awake and I’ll return soon,” Steve promised, bewildering Loki further. Did this man often visit complete strangers imprisoned after plummeting from the sky and unleashing whatever havoc he had in his frenzy?

As the door clicked shut, Loki sat back and stared at the ceiling, contemplating his situation in stifling silence.


End file.
